


The Worst Truth of All

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder tries to figure out how to deal with his feelings for Gabriel</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Truth of All

_“Hide your heart under the bed and lock your secret drawer.   
Wash the angels from your head won’t need them anymore.   
Love is a demon and you’re the one he’s coming for.   
Oh my Lord.   
He’s bringing sweet salvation; let temptation take him in.   
He’s every fear and every hope and every single sin.   
He’s the universe, the love you’ve been imagining.   
Oh my Lord.   
He is the very breath you feel inside your lungs at night.   
He is the bitter wind who’s drying up your appetite.   
He is the darkness that seeps into your fading light.   
Oh my Lord.” _   
**-Jann Arden, _Could I Be Your Girl?_ **

 

It was such a cliché.

Unexpected love found in the midst of a daily routine that had suggested no inclination for such a thing. It had sprung forth from the hopelessness and despair that preceded a bid of (still dangerous but far more livable) normalcy, within the limitless scope of destiny. It wasn’t _supposed_ to happen, not this way, not with these players.

But all clichés were rooted in truth that surpassed the test of time, crawling up and out of a haphazard burial as if it say, _you really think you’re so different?_

No, he wasn’t above it, any of it, least of all the suffocating trapping of unrequited love. That was the worst. It taunted him for feelings he could not control, dangling the never attainable possibility just beyond his grasp. To love someone who, for all intents and purposes, could not love him back and, more likely, _would_ not even if circumstances permitted.

It was a tragic cause that set permeable restrictions within which he fought to keep his head above the water line. Yet it was that seemingly useless freefall that also made him feel the most alive. He was unapologetically hyperaware of every thought, feeling and physical reaction that pulsed through his frame. He did not have to like it, but he could not deny it.

In many ways, considering how much of his life was shared with those who made up his inner circle (only a few of whom he genuinely regarded as friends), those intensely private feelings were the one thing he managed to keep all to himself. That fact added a certain reverence to what should have otherwise been easily dismissed or laughed off as sheer lunacy.

That was one of the reasons he held on with an iron fist. Right or wrong, it was his. Every rushed thrill and dull ache belonged to him. With everything he had seen in this chapter of his life, all the people and situations that had tested his will and compassion, this was the dutiful reminder that he was still human, that he could still be overcome and undone by one of the most basic human traits—the ability to love beyond reason.

He hated how vulnerable it made him feel, and reveled in how present it rendered him in a given moment. It was a conundrum that twisted his very being, but he could not exorcise it, ignore it, tear it to pieces and reconstruct it as a something palatable.

He could not leave it alone or let it run its course, sputtering out at the end into oblivion.

It festered and grew. At every turn he was challenged and forced to make a decision. And each time he made the same one—

He chose to stand it.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

Mohinder had stumbled upon the refuge offered in the privacy of his apartment’s roof by chance. During a two weeks visit from Molly and his mother the young girl had disappeared one afternoon after a disagreement with him about her coming back to America permanently or at the very least him spending half of the year in India. Panic had set in while searching for her and in a desperate state he had climbed the stairs to the roof only to find her sitting with her back up against one of the low ledge walls, staring up at the dimly lit starlit sky.

Sitting next to her, their talk had been an emotional offloading of long held worries, hurts and hopes, and in the end they had found a shared square inch of peace, befit of resigned understanding that both could hold onto while Molly was back in Chennai and Mohinder continued to live a double life as a cab driver, by day, and a research scientist of powered people (“Specials,” Molly said) under considerable threat, by night.

The unanticipated outcome of their nighttime chat was that he came to associate the quiet isolation of the roof top, and its concoction of muted sounds from the city below and the dimmed colours of the sky above, with self-reflective contemplations free from distracting interruptions and unwanted second party impositions. There was solace in the perception of a self-contained sphere.

He did not make the pilgrimage to the newfound isolated haven regularly. That was saved for when the world felt like it was relentlessly pushing down and he needed to step away (_through the wardrobe door_) into a safe haven that was forgiving of all his flaws and open to every dream.

Sometimes he sat as he had with Molly, on the floor of the roof propping his back up against the ledge. With his legs bent and feet flat on the surface, he would rest his forearms on the pointed angles of his knees and either hang his head low, as if in prayer, or angle it full back as he gazed up at the sky. Other times he stood, leaning forward and resting his arms on the ledge while he stared at the city landscape that grew into a jagged horizon.

He gave his mind free reign to go where it pleased, settling on whatever crossed its path. Not that it was ever a surprise. Roof trips meant one thing; that his mind was in desperate need of sorting out the confused mess created by the uncontrollable factors that informed his life.

He recalled how easily their conversations, once antagonistic, flowed again; lively debates went well into the night or nearly hijacked group dinners until they were ‘encouraged’ to take it onto the balcony; shoulder grabs, handshakes, knee grazes stopped inducing flinches and became more natural, uneventful.

He breathed deeply, wishing that the extra air would flow clarity through him and provide the answers he urgently craved. But little changed besides the intensity of what had tied itself to his soul.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

The _epiphany_ was always the same.

He was in love with Gabriel.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**

“For how long? When are you going?” Peter asked in surprise at Mohinder’s announcement.

Mohinder shifted in the passenger seat and broke his attention away from the house they were watching that contained a potentially dangerous Special, and found Peter staring at him with wide eyes.

“It’s been awhile since I was last home. It’s not worth it to go for less than six weeks.” Mohinder watched Peter’s eyes widen even more at the number and reticently added, “I leave next week Friday.”

“Were you going to tell me before you got there?” Peter was incredulous.

“I believe I just did.” Mohinder brushed off the tension with a joke but Peter was not easily placated.

“You know what I mean.” Peter huffed his irritation and glared steadily out the windshield.

Mohinder placed his right elbow on the curved ledge of the door and propped his head up with his hand, never taking his eyes off of his friend. He had not intended for the news of his trip to sound brusque or work as a preamble to a fight. “Of course I was going to tell you. It was a spur of the moment decision. You’re second only to my mother in knowing about it.”

Peter cast a quick glance sideways at the admission and turned up the right corner of his lips, giving the impression of a shy smile. “Sorry,” he sounded embarrassed.

“For what? I hadn’t thought about how I’d be springing this on you.”

Peter twisted in his seat and placed half of his back against the door, laying his left arm out across the top of the steering wheel. “No, I sometimes forget that you had a life before you came here—that you still have this _other_ one out there.” He nodded his head towards the window. “Of course you want to see your mom, and Molly.”

Mohinder leveled a relieved smile at him. “They’re both excited. It will be good to walk _familiar ground_.” He emphasized the final words with the same dramatic flair in a theatrical voice he used to use when telling Molly stories of his travels as a child.

Peter’s vaguely pleasant expression faltered momentarily, suggesting a random thought had skittered across his mind, and he shook his head, moving in the seat so that he was facing forward again. “How long has it been?” he asked conversationally.

Mohinder scratched the back of his neck and gazed out the window at Emily Letrac’s house. “Just over a year,” he said quietly.

“That has to be hard.” Peter gripped the steering wheel with both hands then dropped them to his lap. “Especially since you and your mom are so close.”

Keeping in mind Peter’s strained relationship with Angela, Mohinder was mindful to be appreciative of the comment without becoming rudely emphatic of his own familial bond. He nodded. “It’s not easy but there’s something about knowing she’s out there, doing well, that gives me peace when we’re apart.”

Peter regarded him closely then looked forward again and said, “Still—”. He stopped and changed direction. “Did you know Claire’s been seeing a guy from the university—Vincent?”

The news caused Mohinder to sit up straight. “I had no idea,” he said, happy to hear that she was finding some much needed normalcy in her life.”

“No one did,” Peter shot him an amused grin. “Not until Sandra tried to make plans for the Memorial weekend. It turned out Claire wasn’t in a rush to head back to California.”

Mohinder chuckled. “She wanted to spend it with him?”

“You know how it is,” Peter said. “When you love someone, proximity is a good thing.”

_Or the worst._

Mohinder’s stomach tightened and he was thankful that Peter had never taken on the power of super-hearing. He surely would have heard the drum-like pounding of Mohinder’s heart, painful against his ribcage. Then again Mohinder’s sudden silence was a giveaway in itself as he noted Peter’s brow knitted in curiosity.

“I suppose,” Mohinder quickly replied with a put upon smile meant to throw forth a diversion. “Not that it stopped my father from picking up and leaving.”

“Yeah, but he was driven by something that tied him to your mom forever. It’s…” Peter trailed off and, meeting Mohinder’s questioning eyes; began fiddling with the radio.

Mohinder thought better of ignoring the obvious attempt to change the subject since he was interested in what has caught Peter’s tongue. “What’s on your mind?”

“That there’s a serious lack of good music on the radio,” Peter groaned, hitting the tuner button.

“Peter.”

Peter paused, settling on a station playing a commercial, and looked over his shoulder at Mohinder. Leaning back in his seat he said, “I think people go home again for one of two reasons: they want to get back to something or they want to escape it.”

Mohinder unconsciously rubbed his right thigh through his jeans, then gripped the door’s ledge again and worked his fingers against the leather. He stared at the street and drew his lips into a tight line. “And your thoughts on my trip would be?”

“I’m sure you want to see your mom and Molly…”

Mohinder rolled his eyes at Peter’s vague response.

Peter shrugged. “You can be really guarded. There are things you never talk about and I don’t know if it’s because you have nothing to say or don’t want to share it.”

“I’m not that secretive,” Mohinder exclaimed as much out of frustration at Peter’s pointedly appropriate observation.

“Only about the things that really matter,” Peter countered. Catching Mohinder’s narrowed eyes he leaned toward him. “Hey, I’m not trying to push you into saying anything you don’t want to—,”

Mohinder raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m just saying that if you’re going away for a reason besides seeing your mom and Molly, I get it.”

Mohinder wrestled back the truth that threatened to slip free from his tongue, but Peter looked so earnest and wanting to be that shoulder for Mohinder to lean on. And Peter _had_ been that pillar, but on this issue—_running away from love_—Mohinder was resolute. He would not risk the censure—_the abject disappointment_—in Peter’s eyes if he knew about the way Gabriel had ingrained himself into every corner of Mohinder’s mind. As supportive as Peter was, when it came to Gabriel—_Sylar_—as a romantic entanglement, that was above and beyond the call of duty.

Besides he could not handle the added humiliation of pitying looks Peter would sympathetically grant him (_though discreetly_) when (_not if_) Gabriel did not return said feelings. It was a lose-lose situation and Mohinder had no interest in playing the fool. He playfully dropped his head down and looked up at Peter. “Sometimes a trip is just a trip.”

Peter lay into him with steady eyes before smiling to himself and reclining back in his seat. As indifferent as Mohinder worked to appear, he was unnerved by the way Peter always seemed to be able to read him so well.

Going to India was not only about reconnecting with his old life, it was about imposing a non-negotiable distance between himself and Gabriel, a geographic boundary meant to snuff out that which kept him up at night, tossing and turning (_touching, arching_), groaning in frustration (_lust, want_) into the black air; and snatched his daydreams, racing his heart and forcing him to shift uncomfortably in front of company.

Mohinder needed to wean himself off of Gabriel and fit him back into the slot he belonged—a powerful Special who was a dangerous murderer and a tentative ally to the cause. Mohinder stared out the passenger window and tried to convince himself he was neither a coward nor a screw up. He heard Peter turn the volume up and began tapping his foot along with the beat of the song.

Nothing more was said.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

Six weeks turned into seven.

India reinvigorated Mohinder. A renewed sense of purpose, of simply existing, coursed through his veins and lit the path for a new direction. Away from everything that made America his second home, a new perspective emerged. He _did_ love the work he was doing with powered people, but he also missed teaching. He ruminated on melding the two and saw that chance in the country he had returned to. At the same time he missed his friends, thinking about what Matt, Hiro and Peter were up to. But he had also begun to fill in that emptiness left by essentially cutting Gabriel out.

Breathing room meant Mohinder could accept that loving Gabriel, as real and as shocking as it proved to be, was another chapter of his life best left behind without demanding resolution for himself. There was no place for it to go and he was only setting himself up for hurt. Gabriel was incapable of love, no matter that he had used sex as a tool of manipulation in the past with others, no matter that he and Mohinder had developed an inexplicably friendly bond that revered a closeness Gabriel never showed with others. From what Mohinder could gather, Gabriel’s awed interest was more likely to be taken with the brilliance of other Specials, like Peter. As such Mohinder was more of an accessory in their world, a position he and Ando had found eye-rolling humour in.

Mohinder had come to accept that and was okay with it. Life, as they said, rolled on.

On Thursday afternoon he walked into the family home after a morning spent with Nirand at the university. From the living room he heard voices in the kitchen and, knowing that Molly was out with friends, his curiosity carried him closer. The first person his eyes settled on was his mother leaning against the counter along the opposite wall.

“Finally, you’ve arrived.” Anjali beamed. “You have a surprise.”

Mohinder took a tentative step further into the kitchen to see whom she was referring to. The sight of Peter approaching him with a lopsided grin, too long hair, khaki pants, a dark blue t-shirt and leather sandals, made Mohinder laugh out loud. He had not realized the extent of how much he missed his friend until that moment. With arms wide open, they hugged and Mohinder affectionately squeezed his shoulders.

“Don’t be mad,” Peter whispered in his ear.

Confused, Mohinder loosened his hold and leaned back, his arms still on Peter’s arms. He tilted his head inquisitively to the side, their gaze held, and felt Peter tense slightly beneath his fingers.

“We thought we’d come visit you since you’re in no rush to come back.”

Mohinder froze at the familiar voice and observed Peter’s piercing eyes telling him to remain calm. Under his mother’s watch, Mohinder looked to his right and saw Gabriel stand up next to the table.

“Of course,” Gabriel raised his teacup up to Anjali who laughed lightly, “Now I can see why.”

A sight in blue jeans, black sandals, a loose fitting white v-neck t-shirt (a small silver chain around his neck that Mohinder had never seen before) and typically messy hair, Gabriel looked far too much at ease for Mohinder’s liking. At any other time and place he would secretly be thrilled to see Gabriel again (if not annoyed at being tossed back to square one within a matter of two seconds). And although a part of Mohinder’s mind jumped around with imaginings of Gabriel pressed up in his space, trailing a hand across his jaw and thumbing his lip before traveling back across his shoulder and down his chest to grip his waist and pull him flush against his body for a kiss, the more stable part of himself was furious at Gabriel’s audacity to show up in the Suresh family home—_Chandra’s home_—making nice with his mother as if there should be no bad blood between them.

“It’s a good thing you told me about Peter’s abilities,” Anjali said drawing Mohinder’s searing gaze (quickly softened for her benefit) away from Gabriel. “Otherwise I might have died from fright when they appeared out of thin air.”

Mohinder looked disapprovingly at a blushing Peter for an explanation.

“Yeah, I sort of miscalculated the difference between the front door and the living room.” Peter bashfully pushed his hair behind his ear.

“If I was the time traveler it wouldn’t have been a problem.” Gabriel smirked. In that split second Mohinder wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more—punch Gabriel in the face or bend him over the table.

“Yes, well, if you could time travel we would have more pressing concerns,” Mohinder snapped.

Gabriel’s cocky smile straightened out into a tight and unappreciative line. “Your mother was telling us about her outreach organization helping those in abusive relationships. It’s remarkable what she’s accomplished. I see where you get your _tenacity_ from.”

Panicked thoughts clipped Mohinder’s tongue as two worlds, meant to be separate, collided. Seeing his mother’s smile and hearing her laugh, he was struck by how smoothly Gabriel had already ingratiated himself into yet another facet of his life. Escape was, apparently, a pipedream. He would never be free of Gabriel. Their challenging stare went unbroken until Peter cleared his throat.

“Your mom was actually going to show us her offices,” Peter said.

“But I’m suddenly feeling a bit tired from the trip. I think it would be best to sit it out _this time_.” Gabriel refused to let Mohinder turn away without appearing as he if he were losing a game of chicken. Mohinder’s mind reeled from the taunt that Gabriel might make a habit out of visiting Anjali again and he nearly missed what was said next. “Maybe you can play host to me until they get back?”

Mohinder was a second away from shouting, ‘Absolutely not,’ when Peter spoke up, sounding very much like a member of a political family.

“Would you mind, Mohinder? I really want to check it out. The organization sounds like it’s doing really well but could thrive even more with a benefactor in its corner.”

Mohinder ignored the subtle twitch at the corners of Gabriel’s lips as they both became aware of the un-winnable position Mohinder was in. He spun on his heels, putting his back to Gabriel and re-establishing the symbolic wall he had worked hard to keep up. Peter casually shrugged his shoulders and nodded to the side as if to say, _It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just do it._

Mohinder plastered a fake smile on his face. “Have fun.”

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********* **

 

They were in the backyard no more than five minutes with the afternoon sun fiercely beating down when Mohinder angrily stated, “You have no right to be here,” as he rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt and straightened the fitted and buttoned brown vest overtop.

Gabriel stopped on the spot and his shoulders formed a tense line high on his body. He glared at Mohinder. “This could have been avoided if you had actually bothered to tell me you were leaving. No, instead I got to hear the news after the fact, and not from Peter, but from Matt and his broken telephone brainwaves jeering about what I didn’t know.”

“Is it any wonder, considering this?” Mohinder gestured aggressively with his right hand at Gabriel, mindfully ignoring the fact that he had purposely not said goodbye to him when he left, finding fortune in the fact that Gabriel had been on an assignment with Claire. It had been a classically passive-aggressive move that Mohinder wasn’t proud of in retrospect but at the time had felt right. If he had waited for a face-to-face send off they may have ended up in a grudge match drowning in bad feelings or the stilted strangeness of an accidental, one-sided confession.

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I needed your permission when making travel plans.” Mohinder headed away from the house and further into the garden. He wiped the back of his neck, now damp with a light sheen of sweat, with his left hand.

Cold pressure suddenly chilled the back of his neck and dropped his body’s temperature to a more manageable degree. He spun around and jerked backwards, away from an approaching Gabriel who had his right arm raised, palm forward.

“What are you doing?” Mohinder demanded breathlessly.

“You’re hot,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “I’m cooling you down.”

That was when it hit Mohinder that Gabriel had yet to break a sweat, which was impossible unless—

“Don’t.” Mohinder was firm but not harsh. “I see you’ve acquired another useful ability.”

Gabriel evaded the comment by dropped the cooling sensation from Mohinder’s body and, pushing his hands in his pockets, took a few steps by him. Pausing, he dug the tip of his sandal into the cobblestone pathway. With his head hung low, he turned around and pulled his shoulders back. Throwing his head back he stared down his nose at Mohinder. “I thought we were making headway, working together, but I guess I was wrong. No problem though. I’m a quick learner.”

It was the perfect opportunity for Mohinder to finally turn the page and start again without the unanswerable question of what he wanted Gabriel to be to him looming above. He could turn denial into a reality but the finality of that decision was suddenly too much. Behavior to the contrary might suggest otherwise, but seeing Gabriel again reinforced that Mohinder wasn’t ready to let go, if he ever would be. He liked having Gabriel in his life, in the weird gray zone between foe and friend. Mohinder would take the mass chaos of conflicted feelings for the rush of fruitless chance.

“No need to be quite so dramatic,” Mohinder chastised. “I needed a break and took it.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Must be nice to pick up and walk away. Who cares who you leave behind?”

Unsure about the cryptic implication, Mohinder started to say, “Am I to believe you missed—,”

“Peter’s a bigger pain than usual without you.” Gabriel was quick—_very quick, too quick_—to set the record straight and his tone lacked the bite of earlier, instead sounding reflective and musing. Mohinder wondered if there was more to it. “I have to watch him mope around silently.”

“You mean you’re not the conversationalist he desires?” Mohinder could not help but joke.

A small smile stole rose on Gabriel’s lips and he muttered, “He’s not exactly my first choice either,” as he turned to look at the garden.

When he was a child Mohinder had treated the meticulously groomed yet very naturally feeling garden, with its massive greenery and mix of brilliant hues, as a secret land that he ruled all to himself. He would run and hide amongst the immense walls of flowers that in his mind became the labyrinth of a kingdom where other adventurers, artists, thinkers and warriors lived. To have Gabriel in it made him nervous and dubious; the carefully crafted, protective walls were swiftly breached and the most menacing and enticing of invading forces stood to occupy the space.

Mohinder calmed his anxiousness with deep breaths and took in the strong lines of Gabriel’s body, never pompously on display yet commanding all the same in the way he owned the space he was in. He was magnetic and everything that went against Mohinder’s better judgment. Knowing that, Mohinder slowly stepped up behind him and stood just off center of Gabriel’s left shoulder. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his linen pants and gazed at the curve of Gabriel’s neck before shaking the distraction from his mind.

“This place,” Mohinder referenced the garden solemnly, “is more home to me than anywhere else. When in doubt…even if it takes two days to get here now.”

Gabriel abruptly turned his face to Mohinder’s and met his wondering gaze. Gabriel’s eyes were crinkled at the corners, contemplatively, and subtle lines were etched along his forehead. After a moment he looked back at the garden.

“I could learn everything that is important to you from a touch,” Gabriel said thoughtfully and glanced his way. “One touch and every memory, every story that made up your life would unfold like a flipbook.”

Defensively, Mohinder took one step back and immediately worried that Gabriel would not think twice about invading the deep recesses of his mind to uncover every single secret—good, bad, _defining_—that refused to be forgotten. Most troubling was the Pandora’s Box that would be ripped open if Gabriel found out what had sent Mohinder on the unplanned trip to India. It would all be out in the open. Awkwardly, Mohinder swallowed as the risk gnawed painfully at him.

_Hope. _

Discarded.

Hopeless.

“Why don’t you?” Mohinder asked defiantly, not knowing why Gabriel would warn him instead of doing exactly what he usually did—whatever he wanted.

Gabriel turned on the spot and glowered at him beneath a raised eyebrow in a way that was, strangely not confrontational but revelatory. In a low voice he said, “It’s easy. The things I’ve found out about others, it’s child’s play…but you…you’ve always been far more interesting in what you choose to say, and how you do it. You’ve always been a bit of a surprise. Call me a traditionalist, but I don’t like to mess with that.”

Mohinder let his words sink in, thrown off balance by the depth of the confession, careful not to let his mind consider what might not be there. “But you could?” he practically whispered.

“Absolutely,” Gabriel stated unwaveringly, jutting his face forward a miniscule inch that still conveyed unparalleled prowess. He made a move to head back to the house but stopped when his right shoulder was square with Mohinder’s and leaned in. “When are you coming home?”

Mohinder sucked in a sharp breath at Gabriel’s deliberate nearness and took a moment to gaze at the side of his face. “I _am_ home.”

“No.” Gabriel did not flinch. “This _was_ home.” He looked behind him at the garden then to Mohinder again and mockingly toned, “You can’t live in the garden. It’s just an illusion.”

He lifted his left hand and, turning his upper body further into Mohinder’s space, lightly tapped the side of Mohinder’s head. “Too much knowledge,” he firmly said. Dropping his arm at his side he pressed his face forward and let his words graze against Mohinder’s ear. “Even Paradise fell.”

Without any doing on Gabriel’s part, Mohinder felt pressure against his space from Gabriel hovering only millimeters away. The slight chill from his body was a welcome contrast to the powerful sun, the faint scent of a non-descript soap emanated from his skin and his lingering words, all wrapped themselves around Mohinder’s senses; overloading him. Thinking logically was out of the question and as he watched Gabriel stroll back to the house, his own uncertainty took a back seat to what he wanted, whether it wanted him back or not.

He had left America for much the same reason he had once left India—to find himself and figure out the path set before him. What had followed turned his world upside down and though he could not make it what he wanted it to be, instead having to maneuver within the shifting perimeters, he had accepted that his life was a series of challenges, some good (when he was lucky) and some bad (as was the bitter twist of life).

Survival was the collection of hours, day through night; that did not own him.

Mohinder began a slow walk of thoughtfully deliberate steps in Gabriel’s wake. With his eyes on the tall form ahead that was taking a detailed and innocently curious inventory of the Suresh home while awaiting his approach, Mohinder knew what he had to do.

Even if it meant suffering in silence.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ************

 

There were many ways that Mohinder could not get a proper read when it came to Gabriel and it left him somewhat flustered. Falling into a familiar repertoire with each other long before more intimate feelings drew a breath within him, had proved surprising (though maybe not as much a it should have) to them as well as others who were part of the same fold of their underground, but it had worked to everyone’s advantage and as such was accepted with little opposition. Their tentative alliance became an unlikely (and very complicated) friendship.

The closeness that developed between them, couched in conversations far more meaningful than they had any right to be, and constantly renegotiated personal space with accepted touches, raised eyebrows along the way, none more so than from Mohinder who found himself trying to pinpoint when it was that Gabriel had become someone he wanted in his life long term.

The debatable points of contention were not helped by Gabriel’s constant ricochet between authenticity and manipulation on the flip of a dime in a given day. His relative honesty with Mohinder revealed no more and no less of the man he was, meaning that while Mohinder’s feelings took root, deeply embedded within, he had no true indication of a complimentary return beyond finding a common ground upon which to maintain their working relationship. For every chance that there might be something more between them, there was also the indifferent smirk and keen interest in the more ‘rewarding’ persons that reiterated why the two of them would never be anything else.

It was that very no-man’s land after India that Mohinder chose to reside in. Being near Gabriel, ensuring Gabriel’s place in his life, shared top priority, even if it meant maintaining an arm’s length reach. Gabriel still walked around his apartment like he owned the place and just as easily walked out the door when other more important situations arose that required his many abilities. Sometimes he showed up again in the dead of night to crash on the couch after sharing the details of his most recent misadventures, reaching out for a meaningful connection and a shared laugh; eventually cooking them both breakfast the next morning as a thank you.

Mohinder, for his part, went about life as usual and with Peter’s helpful connections, landed a mix of private and public funding for research at the university regarding isolating and controlling abilities, and Gabriel turned out to be a helpful guinea pig (on the occasions when Mohinder managed to twist his arm) in front of the curious students. On the surface they were the precise balance of work and platonic play.

Gabriel became entrenched as the fixture that could not be undone. He would not be replaced. And so Mohinder learned to work around the elephant in the room that only he could see.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**

“So you _are_ up here?” Peter announced his arrival with a crooked grin as he appeared out of thin air on the roof.

Startled, Mohinder jumped from his perch, leaning forward on the ledge, and let out a relieved but alarmed sigh at who had shown up without an invitation. “What are you doing here?”

“Just letting you now we’re at your place.” Peter half sat on the ledge next to him and folded his arms across his chest.

“How—,”

“Gabriel heard you.” Peter paused. “According to him you have a very specific sound.”

Mohinder pressed his palms against the top of the ledge and stared at the street below. “So he sent you to get me?”

“As you already know he likes giving orders and I like making him think he has control once in awhile,” Peter joked and leaned closer. “No, he didn’t want to bother you since we’re early. I figured you’d like to know we’re ransacking your personal belongings.”

Mohinder did not react to the joke, caught up in the idea of Gabriel knowing where he was and deliberately not coming for him (_giving him space_), and Peter furrowed his brow.

“I can go. I didn’t mean to bother you,” Peter said with a trace of worry for his unexpected interruption.

“It’s no bother,” Mohinder dismissed Peter’s concern with a wave of his hand. “I was about to head down anyway. I’m sure he’s making himself at home, fusing the glassware together.” He rolled his eyes and pushed up from the ledge to face Peter directly.

Standing up, Peter scrunched up his face in good humour. “It’s funny. He can fit in anywhere, _make_ people deal with him, but in the end he’s still one of those creatures of comfort. Your apartment has always been one of those places for him—which is weird given everything that’s happened there. I don’t know. Trying to figure him out requires too much work.”

Mohinder smiled down at the ground in a calculated bid of avoidance. “I stopped trying to figure him out a long time ago.”

Peter murmured thoughtfully with a quizzical glance at Mohinder. “He said the exact same thing about you.” He stepped towards him. “He was also lying.”

Mohinder fought the heated flush that stung his cheeks. Clearing his throat he began to walk to the roof’s door when Peter came up behind him and grabbed his left shoulder, pulling him around. Mohinder’s mouth flew open with a quick retort on his tongue halted by Peter.

“Taking the long way around has become a bad habit.”

“Meaning?” Mohinder steadied himself and pulled up straight.

“To take the stairs or let me blink us down?” Peter posed the question as a moral dilemma then added with a knowing look and a hand to Mohinder’s shoulder, “Or go as far as India.”

Mohinder fixed a blank expression in place and tensed his jaw, folding his arms in front of him.

Peter rolled back on his heels as if he were inspecting Mohinder. “I couldn’t say for sure why you really went but I guess it worked.”

Sarcastically Mohinder quipped, “How about we pretend I know what you’re talking about?”

Peter paused. “Nothing. It’s just…you seem good. Like you figured something out. And lately I’ve been thinking that if you’re not going to get what you should out of the road traveled you might as well get right to the destination.”

Mohinder shifted his eyes away from Peter’s inquisitive stare. His shoulder dipped under the strong grip but alongside the sense of confinement Peter’s rapt attention pressed on him there was also chance relief promised in a truthful utterance. If that was indeed what Peter was obscurely offering.

_Absolution.   
_  
Being mindfully cautious of what he was willing to share, Mohinder reluctantly asked, “Is this some sort of push for ‘the ends justify the means’ debate that I’m not getting?”

Peter squeezed his shoulder. “What’s the worse that could happen? You find out you were right all along?”

Caught off guard and thrown into a mixed state of embarrassment and wonderment at the direct and declarative questions, Mohinder stammered his reply, “I—Peter—I honestly—don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“Forget what I’m trying to say. How about what you won’t?”

Feeling cornered, Mohinder exaggeratedly pulled his shoulder out from under Peter’s hand. His mouth went dry and he took a step back. “There’s nothing to say,” Mohinder said flatly, unconvincingly.

Peter pushed forward. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting it, to me at least.”

Mohinder glanced at the ground, fidgeting with his hands and sighed. “What do you want to hear? That I wouldn’t mind being wrong this time,” he muttered the closest thing to an outright confession to himself.

“That you want to jump.”

With disbelief etched in widening eyes, parted lips and a creased forehead, Mohinder exclaimed, “Just like that? No analyzing every avenue?”

“One of my problems when I was learning how to use my abilities all at once was over-thinking instead of using what I already knew by acting on feeling. I kept messing up, letting the powers call the shots; thinking about what I should do instead of just doing it.”

Peter gripped both of Mohinder’s shoulders and followed his eyes side-to-side until Mohinder had no choice but to return his gaze. Only then did Peter drop his arms to his side.

“When I fought Gab—_Sylar_—in your apartment, half of the fight I put up was instinctive. I did what I had to do to survive and it bought me some time. You did the same thing when you saved me. Everything—logic, intuition—_clicked_.”

As the reality of what Peter was suggesting sunk in, Mohinder’s stomach lurched. He heard what Peter was saying and the urge to heed the call was tempting, increasing with each passing minute. Still he resisted. “Leaping blindly has gotten me into more trouble than I can count.”

“_And_ it’s kept you alive.”

“This isn’t the same thing.”

“No it’s not…” Peter admitted with his tone trailing off unfinished.

Mohinder’s heart tightened and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Do you know something?” His breathing sped up as he searched Peter’s eyes for any hint of the answer that had troubled him for months. By the downturn in Peter’s gaze however, he knew it wasn’t there.

“No. It wasn’t my place to go,” Peter said referencing mind reading. “Besides, I think he has major blocking capabilities.”

Confused as to what had then prompted Peter along the very specific tangent approach being taken, Mohinder shook his head and questioned, “So this…_intervention_…”

Peter pushed his hands in his pockets and moved to the ledge, but stopped halfway there and walked back. “It wasn’t my idea to come for you in India. He was surprised and a little ticked off when he found out you had gone, but you know him. He keeps doing his own thing. When you didn’t come back I figured you had found whatever it was you went there for or were still looking, but Gabriel…it’s not that he thought he could make you come back but he was insistent on trying. I know you two have somehow managed to become friends and I guessed that he might have some card up his sleeve, knowing that we needed you here working with us…or maybe he had other reasons. You’re one of the only people without an ability who he shows any interest in talking to…I really don’t know…”

Peter pulled his shoulders tight then dropped them. “The thing is, you _did_ come back and I promised myself I’d never ask you why, but the whole thing—with him having the guts (and arrogance) to go into your home and think that getting along with you on some level somehow trumped common sense and everything else he had done—did make me think that regrets for what you don’t do are a waste of time.”

He grabbed Mohinder by the shoulders again; excitement in his raised voice and lit eyes. “Don’t you see? For years you and me wanted to change things but didn’t know how. And now that we can, we have to be willing to—,”

“Jump.” Mohinder grinned a crooked smile at Peter who mirrored it back.

“I’m not sure I can,” Mohinder confessed, dropping his smile. “At least not yet.”

“I know.” Peter nodded, understandingly. “But until you’re ready, I can.”

He pressed his fingers against Mohinder’s shoulder and whisked them both to the apartment, whispering, “Proximity,” with a grin.


End file.
